


A Home You Can't Escape

by WitchyBee



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Desert Bluffs, Episode: e019 The Sandstorm, Gen, Kevin's idea of a hug is actually violent strangulation, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:57:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyBee/pseuds/WitchyBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Cecil remembered was two hands, almost identical to his own except for the blood under the fingernails, wrapped tightly around his throat. He tried to fight, but Cecil was foremost a man of words, not violence.</p><p>During the sandstorm, the Voice of Night Vale goes missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Home You Can't Escape

The last thing Cecil remembered was two hands, almost identical to his own except for the blood under the fingernails, wrapped tightly around his throat. He tried to fight, but Cecil was foremost a man of words, not violence. 

He couldn’t get enough air now. Cecil’s breath came too rapidly, in panicked gasps. As he lost strength, his vision started to fade but was still partially stars, which at least meant he could no longer see Kevin’s hollow black eyes or his broad, twisted smile.

In those last moments of consciousness, he thought about Dana (or her double) standing over her lifeless body, clutching a broken stapler in her trembling hand; Cecil regretted never finding out if he and Carlos could have had something really wonderful; he remembered promising all of his listeners that he’d return to them soon; he feared for Night Vale, and--

Then Cecil’s mind went completely blank. The world became an endless, silent void.

. . .

Tangible existence returned slowly, followed by a series physical sensations. Cecil felt the heaviness of his own weak limbs, the press of the couch beneath him, and then light just visible on the other side of closed eyelids. For a few blissfully disoriented seconds, Cecil figured he’d simply dozed off in the break room again. 

But there was something else, too, something unfamiliar…

He opened his eyes. Yes, it was the break room, except the walls were a different color: a bright, glistening shade of red that made you consider the fragility of your heart and other vital organs. The couch had changed, too. Station Management rarely ever allowed any redecorating, so this was very odd indeed.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” a cheerful voice noted. “You had me worried there, friend. I’m Kevin, by the way, and welcome to Desert Bluffs!”

Desert Bluffs? Ugh, as if things couldn’t get worse. Cecil remembered everything now all at once. There had been the sandstorm, the mysterious glowing vortex opening, the nightmarish studio that mirrored his own, and this man...this evil man…

He carefully touched the bruises already forming on his throat. So that’s what this feeling was: physical pain. He didn’t care for it very much. Cecil’s neck and shoulders were horribly sore, and his lungs burned like he’d just ran a marathon. Wasn’t he part of the lucky percentage of Night Vale residents who did not have pain sensitive nerves? Apparently not anymore.

“How do you feel?” Kevin asked, his tone dripping with concern and probably blood. “I’m afraid I might’ve hugged you too hard. I was so excited about finding my double. Isn’t it fantastic?”

Cecil opened his mouth to say that no, it really wasn't. However, the only sound he could manage was a hoarse, frightened exhale. He wanted desperately to scream or call for the Sheriff’s Secret Police. More than anything in the world, Cecil just wanted to be home. In Night Vale, a hug meant a comforting embrace, not strangling someone to the point of unconsciousness. 

‘I am not your double,’ Cecil thought. ‘We don’t look identical. Dana and her double looked exactly alike. I haven’t seen my reflection in a mirror for years, but I know I don’t have eyes like yours. You are not my double. You’re...something else.’

Of course, he could say none of this out loud.

“Oh gosh,” Kevin said. “You can’t speak?”

Cecil nodded miserably, glaring at the man who was definitely not his double.

“Here, drink this.” He offered Cecil a glass of water. He was hesitant to accept it, because whatever Desert Bluffs put in their drinking water most likely tasted awful and turned good people into happily violent maniacs. But, well, how could Cecil be the Voice of Night Vale if he couldn’t even say a word?

So he took the water glass and sipped it slowly; he had some difficulty swallowing at the moment. Kevin looked on, still smiling, always smiling.

“I hope your voice comes back soon,” he told Cecil. “I know how important it is. You’re a radio professional, just like me. We’re practically the same person, after all.”

‘No, we are not,’ Cecil thought angrily, wishing they could communicate telepathically.

“The other doubles vanished along with the sandstorm, yet here you are. I know you must be eager to return to your listeners and wherever it is you came from, but unfortunately I’m not sure you can.”

Cecil stood up abruptly, defiant. No one was going to keep him away from his beloved Night Vale, least of all this devilish man, but his victory was short lived as dizziness overwhelmed him. Cecil swayed slightly on his feet and then fell backward against the cushions.

“That vortex we both went through is gone,” Kevin explained. “But look on the bright side, brother. This is a terrific opportunity for you. You’re in Desert Bluffs, the most beautiful and prosperous town in the world! Why, I can’t imagine wanting to live anywhere else.”

Cecil grimaced. He did not want to be stuck here in this terrible place with this man who was even more loathsome than Steve Carlsberg. He was scared and still a bit lightheaded. His shoes were filled with blood.

‘I want to go home,’ Cecil tried to say, but all that came out was a raspy, “...home.”

“Yes,” Keven replied kindly. “This is your new home.”


End file.
